


Fic: Learning To Fly

by white_cross_b



Category: Weiss Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-15
Updated: 2010-06-15
Packaged: 2017-10-10 03:37:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/95054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/white_cross_b/pseuds/white_cross_b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The beat of the music is powerful, echoing in his chest, pounding as if it's his own heart, pumping blood through his veins. When he breathes in, it's not cigarette smoke and perfume that he smells, but rain and earth and something that he feels he should know, but can't quite put his finger on. "Aya ..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fic: Learning To Fly

If there's one thing Kudoh Yohji knows, it's when someone is interested in him, which is to put it bluntly, all the time. He has perfected his art form: the sauntering way he walks, the soft drawl of his voice and his half-lidded eyes which he keeps covered with dark glasses, not because they're tired and blood-shot from the night before, but because it gives him an air of mystery. A single look over the top of the lenses and the ladies want to know more. He doesn't limit himself to just one, not Yohji. All women should have a taste of him and he a taste of them. It makes things interesting, like reaching into a box of chocolates and biting into one to find out what kind of filling is inside.  When he tires of one flavor, there is always another. He likes variety.

It's disconcerting to him that the one woman that he truly wanted, was the one that he couldn't have. She was high-spirited, quick with her temper and had the tendency to leap before looking, which in the end, got her killed. He had been so used to playing the game that when he realized that he was in love, he literally didn't know what to do and ended up doing nothing. Because of her death, Yohji's sense of justice became skewed; though it is wrong to kill, it is even more wrong to kill women, and so it was that Kritiker found him, his emotions raw and bleeding. They picked him up, helped him lick his wounds, and Yohji pushed his grief aside and went back to what he did best, women.

Yohji sleeps with a few men as well. "You can't know how to truly please a women until you allow someone to please you," he says with a wink over the top of his sunglasses. He knows how his body looks to other men with his long legs, tight ass and slender hips. He's built just right to appeal to both sexes and he always plays it to his advantage. If Omi looks at him from time to time with soft, wide eyes, he isn't going to discourage him, but he isn't exactly going to take the kid on a ride either. You don't fuck someone that you have to work with the next day, this is Yohji's rule.

Then along comes Aya, the first man that Yohji truly cannot figure out. Aya is unpleasant on his best day and a real bastard on his worst. His icy demeanor has a way of cutting you to the quick with a single glance. _Now that is power_, Yohji thinks, though not necessarily the kind of power that he wants for himself, but it's a power he can admire.  Aya gives nothing about himself away, not to the giggling girls that trail after him in the shop asking him personal questions about himself, and certainly not to his teammates. He works hard in the shop; he works hard for Kritiker and has no friends or relationship that Yohji can see. Though Aya disappears for a few hours from time to time, he always comes back with a steely glint in his eye, more focused and more determined, so he couldn't possibly have been out with a women. Or a man, for that matter.

After a particularly late night out, Yohji is half asleep in the shop the next day, his body clamoring for much-needed sleep. He stretches, his arms up over his head, tired muscles stretching out, spine popping pleasantly and a light breeze across his midriff as his shirt rides up, exposing a small strip of skin. Yohji is shocked nearly senseless to catch Aya actually looking at him curiously before once again his eyes narrow and his mask of indifference is put firmly back in place. Yohji doesn't know what to do with this. Aya's hot, sure, in that kind of "I'll gut you if you touch me" kind of way, or "my eyes can kill you" look. Temporarily forgetting his rule of not fucking where he works, Yohji goes to work on Aya.

But how does one attempt to seduce the unattainable? Why, subtly, of course, except that Yohji doesn't really know how to do subtle, so when his hand accidentally and not at all on purpose finds itself on Aya's ass, he can't really be at fault. Aya doesn't see things this way though, and Yohji nurses his hand the rest of the afternoon, grumbling about broken fingers and whether or not he'll be able to throw his wire if the need should arise. Aya ignores him and that's normal, the way things should be, except that it isn't. Not for Yohji, because he had Aya's attention for a second and now he wants more. And so Yohji tries another tactic, ignoring Aya. Sure, he flirts with the girls just as much as he always did, but now he flirts with the male customers as well and Yohji can't help it if he wears tighter pants and higher-cropped shirts because they're in style now, right?

Aya doesn't take the bait. If it were humanly possible, he becomes even surlier, and this is how Yohji realizes that he just might be on to something. Aya goes out of his way to avoid Yohji now and has actually disappeared several nights in a row and come back home late, even after Yohji has come home and gone to bed. When one day in the shop Yohji catches a glimpse of a large, purple bruise on the side of Aya's neck underneath the collar of that horrid orange sweater he likes to wear, Yohji very nearly has a heart attack. "What is that?" he nearly shrieks, sure that somehow it's the end of the world and he didn't get the memo. The earth must have tilted off its axis and soon there will no longer be any gravity and Yohji will drift off into space. That's how he's feeling anyway, like this is a dream and no way did Aya actually have a date the night before. Aya is saved by a flock of schoolgirls who burst into the shop, free from their classes and ready to squeal over whichever flowershop boy strikes their fancy today. When the shop closes, Aya disappears up to his room and locks the door and Yohji doesn't see him again the rest of the night.

Yohji can't leave it alone and watches Aya more earnestly now and it's for Aya's own good really, because doesn't he look particularly pale lately? Sure, he's always looked pale, but now he's really pale, and fragile like an eggshell. And now Aya seems to sleep a lot and he's always cold. His eyes are dark-ringed and he doesn't eat, not that Yohji has catalogued everything in the refrigerator to see, thank you very much. He's not that obsessed. No, really, he's not. It's just nerves, he tells himself, after all, they're all on edge, being hunted by the police as terrorists now, making it hard to step out of the Koneko at all with the wanted posters up all over town. Yohji knows about Aya's sister now and if it's possible, admires Aya even more because now Yohji knows that they have something in common. Aya is fighting for a woman. Or a girl, actually, but it's the same thing. Aya wants to protect her and isn't that what Yohji's been doing all along, protecting women?

When Takatori is killed, Yohji is elated because now Aya's revenge is over, his thirst is quenched. However, when Aya disappears afterward without even leaving a note, Yohji slips into a deep depression that he can't seem to shake. Gone is another one that he truly wanted, that he never got to have. It is a pattern he doesn't want to repeat and he goes back to his old ways of drinking and screwing any girl that he can snare into the mattress, which is all of them, pretending that in the end it doesn't matter, he didn't want Aya anyway. He can't remember ever really wanting Aya at all, now that he thinks about it, and if he thinks he catches a glimpse of dark red hair wherever he goes, it's just his imagination. Except that it's not, because as he's dancing one night in a particularly trendy club, he's sure he catches sight of Aya on the edge of the dance floor, looking at him with those haunting, purple eyes.

Yohji closes his eyes for a few fleeting moments. When he opens them again, Aya is gone. Time seems to slow then, to soften around the edges as he scans the crowd. He was probably never even there, Yohji tells himself, it was just a trick of the overhead lights, lighting up on some stranger that just happens to resemble Aya in some way at first glance. He tries to concentrate on the two women that he's currently sandwiched between, but now everything has gone sharp and clear and more pronounced. The beat of the music is powerful, echoing in his chest, pounding as if it's his own heart, pumping blood through his veins. When he breathes in, it's not cigarette smoke and perfume that he smells, but rain and earth and something that he feels he should know, but can't quite put his finger on. "Aya ..." he breathes the name like oxygen.

Yohji closes his eyes again because everything is too beautiful, too intense, and he feels such longing that he thinks he might go insane, if he isn't already. Sounds, words, blend together and disappear, but he doesn't need them anymore for he knows what has been buried inside him since the dawn of time, this primeval lust. He's thirsty, so very thirsty and he leaves the women behind to get a drink from the bar that doesn't quench his thirst, doesn't even come close. He feels like an outsider now, unable to blend into the crowd and finds a spot in a dark corner where he lights up a cigarette, his hands trembling as he pockets his lighter and takes a drag. _What is wrong with me_, he asks himself and then there Aya is, standing right in front of him.

Yohji tries to look away because didn't he get over Aya already? Not that he was ever into him, of course, but he finds that he can't seem to pull away from the depths of Aya's eyes as Aya takes the cigarette from Yohji's hand and takes a drag, slowly blowing the smoke up toward the ceiling and Aya smoking is the sexiest thing Yohji has ever seen in his life and then he can't think at all anymore because Aya's mouth is on his and the world is fading away and it's only the two of them and Yohji's heart is beating so hard in his chest that it just might burst. He feels Aya on him everywhere, but he's not concerned if anyone is watching them because he's certainly not having sex with Aya in a public place, but somehow he knows that he lost control a long time ago, if he ever had it at all, and then Aya's fucking him against the wall with fierce, hard strokes and when Aya latches onto Yohji's neck, Yohji comes like he never has before, sure that someone has heard them now despite the loud music, and all he can think before darkness claims him is that he should have known Aya was a biter.

Yohji fingers the marks on his neck the next several days, the only thing he has to prove to himself that Aya really had been there. His neck is raw, the skin punctured and purple and makes him tingle deep in his groin whenever he touches it.

Weiß comes back together, only Aya doesn't show and Yohji wonders if this is how girls feel when he tells them that he'll call and he doesn't. His dreams are strange when he sleeps at all now; he dreams of flying, of digging in the earth, of cold moonlight and wind upon water. When he next sees Aya again, firelight flickers on Aya's face and he smells of sex and smoke and Yohji's so jealous that he could tear Aya apart. "You let him fuck you," Yohji snarls, but Aya's eyes don't see Yohji, they only see crosses carved into empty beds and paper airplanes, things that Yohji can't understand.

Things go back to the way they were, except that they're not and they all know it, but no one speaks it out loud. Aya now sleeps most of the day and only works in the shop in the late hours, but somehow this is okay because it's Aya and they need Aya, have been shown very clearly that now that they have him, they can't do without him, the two years they spent before he ever came completely forgotten. Yohji has lost his taste for women now, and men, though he tells himself it's only temporary until things settle down, but deep down he knows that's a lie.

Yohji wakes one night to find Aya in his room, standing in the shadows back against the wall, just looking at him. "He understood what I've become now," Aya says simply, so quietly that Yohji isn't sure if Aya has spoken at all except that he feels the words ghost over his own skin, caressing him like a lover. "And I don't?" Yohji asks, or demands, and then Aya is on him and the room is filled with wind and rain and earth so deep that Yohji will never be able to claw his way out. He loses count of how many times he comes and still Aya fucks him, never gets enough of him, devours him with his hands, his lips, his tongue. There are teeth on Yohji's body, biting, drinking, pulling Yohji's soul out through his skin like it will never stop and Yohji is making sounds that he's never made before in his life. Aya is gone again in the morning when Yohji wakes, his entire body stiff and sore, battered and bruised. His sunglasses don't leave his eyes all day, which are too sensitive to sunlight to bear. He longs for cool moonlight, for wind in the trees, for Aya is cold, so very cold and Yohji feels like he's on fire.

Yohji comes to Aya this time as the sun goes down, begs him for what he wants, takes it with his own body, his own mouth, his own teeth, his thirst finally quenched. Now it is also Yohji who sleeps most of the day and only works the late hours, sunglasses always firmly over his eyes, but it's okay, because it's Yohji and they need Yohji.

In the day he sleeps by Aya's side, and at night they fly.

   



End file.
